«SUPERHERO»
by BokuWaSakurazukamori
Summary: Raven's emotions are falling beyond her range of control as her feelings of love for Robin deepen. As if situations weren't complicated enough, it seems a relative from Raven's past has decided to pay her a visit. (Raven x Robin), R&R, update: 2-26-05
1. chapitre un: people's parties

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the DC characters who appear in the animated series Teen Titans (as much as I would LOOOOOOOOVE to own Raven). I do not own any of the quoted material that might appear in here from literature, movies, and songs and such. I do not own the demonic tradition of Goetia, BUT THIS PORTRAYAL OF RAIM IS STRICTLY MINE, BITCHES! I will however make THIS distinction: although many of my elaborations upon Raven's past are based somewhat upon DC comic mythos (I don't tend to enjoy American comics, but when I write anything, I do my research ahead of time), some of the details given may not jibe with specific details presented in the comics or future episodes of Teen Titans. I really couldn't care less. This is my fiction, not DC's! Otherwise, the world is mine. You may kneel, now.

(_Special Thanks to:_ DC, Ani D., Joni M., Stephen K., and T. S. Eliot for providing me with material. Please don't prosecute me! Remember, kiddies; good writers borrow, great writers steal!)

**Rating:** Unreadable and Slated to Be Taken Care of by The Department of Miniluv, as decreed by the Almighty Federal Communications Commission, subsidiary and loyal bitchslave of The Evil Empire, also known as The Bush Administration (TWO MORE MONTHS! TWO MORE MONTHS!)

**The Extent To Which Censorship Will Enter My Writing:** is _THIS!_ There will be many "mature themes" regarding morality, religion, sex and sexuality involved in this piece. There will be swearing, cursing, innuendo, and filthy gutter language _ad libitum_ which your cliché grandmother would not likely enjoy hearing from your mouth (trust me, my voice mail message on my cell was "Hey there, bitches, this is Mark…I'm out working the curb at the moment, but leave me a message and I'll be sure to get back to you. Muah!" until my grandma called me up in the middle of a class and got the answering service X . X). There MAY be some scenes of graphic nudity, sex, and/or violence (I really am not decided on how far I want to go with this, yet, although I'm pretty certain that I won't be going into the territory of gore; this isn't a _Subaru x Seishirou _or _Kamui x Fuuma_ fiction, after all! Therefore, there won't be any decapitation, evisceration, or anything of the like…désolé, 13 to 18 year old male demographic!). If you have problems with such topics being addressed in writing, either stop reading here and now, stop reading when you reach them in the fiction, or skip over them. Otherwise, don't complain! You were warned. Oh, yes, and I'm a rabid X fan, so I'm used to other rabid fans who favor other character pairings than myself flipping out over my choice in character pairings. This is tentatively a _Raven x Robin_ fiction. If that causes you to fly into hysterics, also stop reading here. Raechan is going to be commiserating about how "unfair" it is that Star is so fortunate and blessed with Robin's affection, et cetera, and going all internal-angst-tortured-love-emokid mode. Well, it's not going to be that simple, but you know. That's the Sparknotes version of it.

Otherwise, ENJOY,

Mark

(your supreme sovereign master. mwaugh haugh haugh haugh!)

_Raven is having trouble not only keeping her buried emotions in reign, but also problems with her…family. As Robin and Starfire grow closer, Raven begins to resent her heritage increasingly with each passing day; if not for her powers as a demon, expressing the love she feels for Robin, the guilt-ridden jealousy she holds for Star, as well as her hatred for her father, Trigon, would be an easy enough task. Fate, seeming to spite Raven, throws her an even greater dilemma when a half-brother Raven never knew she had decides to pay her a visit._

«_superhero_»

-lyrics by ani difranco

_**sleepwalking** through the all-night drugstore_

_**baptized** in fluorescent light_

_i found **religion** in the greeting card aisle_

_now i know hallmark was **right**_

_and every **pop** song on the radio_

_is suddenly **speaking** to me_

_yeah, art may imitate **life**_

_but life **imitates** **t. v.**_

'_cause you've been gone exactly **two weeks**_

_two weeks and **three days**_

_and let's just say that things look **different**_

_different in so **many** ways_

'_cause i used to be a **superhero**_

_no one could **touch** me_

_yeah, not even **myself**_

_and **you** were like a phone booth_

_that i somehow **stumbled** into_

_now **look** at me_

_i'm **just** **like** everybody else_

_i'm just like **everybody**…else_

_if i was dressed in my best **defenses**_

_would you agree to **meet** me for coffee?_

_if i did my tricks with **smoke** and **mirrors**_

_would you still know **which** one was me?_

_if i was **naked** and **screaming** on your front lawn_

_would you turn on the light and **come** **down**?_

_**screaming**, "there's the asshole who did this to me_

_stripped me of my power, yeah, **stripped** **me** down!"_

'_cause i used to be a **superhero**_

_no one could **hurt** me_

_yeah, not even **myself**_

_and **you** were like a phone booth_

_that i somehow **stumbled** into_

_now **look** **at me**_

_**i'm** just like everybody else_

_i'm just like **everybody**…else_

_yeah you've been **gone** exactly two **weeks**_

_two weeks and three **days**_

_and now i'm a **different** person_

_different in so **many** ways_

_tell me, what did you **like** about me?_

_don't say my **strength** and **daring**_

_'cause now i think i'm at your **mercy**_

_and it's my **first time** for **this** kind of thing_

_'cause i used to be a **superhero**_

_i would swoop **down**_

_and **save** **me** from myself_

_and **you** were like a phone booth_

_that i somehow **stumbled** into_

_now **look** at me_

_i'm **just like** everybody else_

_i'm just like **everybody**…else_

**(_SU•PER•HE•RO)_**

_**chapitre un: people's parties**_

It stung a bit when the drop ran over the bone-dry desert, her cornea. It fell on the white of her eye just left and slightly beneath the indigo border of the iris, and it made contact like a firebomb kissing Dresden's merry streets. It sent shockwaves of sensations to her farthest extremities, from the roots of her hair down to her toenails, so rare a thing it was. It curved with the eyeball, meeting the rim of the eyelid and hesitating a moment before gravity pulled it over the brink, down the rest of her face, and onto the inevitable oblivion of the roof.

It felt…painful. Painful…and good. It wasn't hers, though. It would never feel as good as being free to open the floodgates and cry her body into a state of dehydration. But until the day came that she could do so, letting rainstorms do the crying for her was the best she would be able to manage. She and the rain…they had been capricious bedfellows since she was much younger, but certainly no less naïve. Azar had made sure that she knew exactly what she was from a time which preceded even her furthest memories. Azarath had made sure she would never forget what she was. She was an animal. She was a monster. Crying was dangerous. Laughter could injure. And above all others, anger stood as the cardinal evil. Every other child could weep, and the only consequences were a comforting embrace or perhaps a mild admonishment. When Raven cried, though, buildings buckled beneath their own oppressive weight, imploding. When Raven laughed other children were flung screaming into the air like paper airplanes and vividly hued kites, as if propelled by giggles. When Raven screamed, passersby found their limbs snapping and surrounding objects or sometimes even their own shadows assaulting them with all the savagery of wild wolves.

So Raven didn't cry anymore. And Raven didn't laugh anymore. And Raven unquestionably didn't scream anymore. For almost a decade, she had adjusted to this lifestyle, this forced emotional complacency. For almost ten years, she dealt with it superficially, accepting her situation in a robotic fashion. She was born with the latent ability to level buildings with an emotional outburst and she would die with it. There was no getting around that actuality. Raven had sunken into such a state of automatic fatalism that when he awoke her from that frigid slumber, it was an excruciating revelation.

Robin. Just allowing her mouth to trace that name out noiselessly cut into her heart. It made no sense. It made absolutely no sense! Why, after a decade of hiding her most sincere emotions from the rest of the world to the point that even she herself very seldom was aware when that she was angry or happy or depressed anymore, was someone who she had known for so short a period of time able to part all of the façades, the false identities, the ostensibly nonchalant walls she had constructed so carefully for so long and touch her in such a way? Raven very nearly hated Robin for it, but that she considered hating him brought her back to the fact that it would be impossible for her to loathe someone unless she also cared about them enough to love them.

She was in love with Robin. She had come to that conclusion last night, as she lay awake in bed, listening to the rhythmic opus of the rain dancing on the roof and down the gutters. She knew it to be true now more than ever as she lied in the same prone position as she had in her bed on that rooftop, letting the rain soak her skin and steal the warmth from her. She felt so warm lately, as if her feelings themselves were fueling her heart, causing her blood to rush at an alarming speed through her veins. With a pulse so insistent and strong, who wouldn't feel almost feverish and drunk on confusion and eros? It was such an entirely alien sensation, something she would have never in any of her most demented dreams imagined possible, let alone actual.

Her mind wandered further into that emotional mire. How could she consider Robin without considering Starfire? The two were that ecumenical perfect couple – the quarterback and the head cheerleader, _the mother-fucking _prom king and queen. They were the very apotheosis of the word "couple". What was Raven, then? The stereotypical goth-girl-cynic who kept a diary of all of her innermost thoughts and clandestinely wept in her dark room, causing all of her eyeliner to run down her face after shuffling home from school and popping a Cure CD into her stereo.

She was _envious_…envious of Star. That wasn't something that had taken her months to realize, and it was only partially over the notion of where Robin's affections lay. Having occupied Starfire's body herself during their little altercation with the Puppet King, Raven experienced Starfire's emotional abandon. Without rage, without ecstasy, it was impossible for Star to even levitate. She and Star were alike and yet unalike. Their powers were comparably derived of emotional responses, but unlike Raven's hideous strength, Star's abilities required no emotive moderation, no mental clarity. Starfire was free to scream, free to weep, free to cower, free to giggle…and the twin paramounts, free to love and to hate. Starfire had everything that Raven had ever truly desired, and yet Star seemed totally unaware of how very much she was blessed with – and that was just icing on the cake. How could Raven feel such a loathing for Starfire when it wasn't even Star's fault that she was simply born in the right place at the right time? If anything, this jealousy only made Raven feel increasingly selfish, increasingly condemnatory of her own human urges. Raven's conditions weren't anymore Star's fault than they were Robin's or her own.

"Raven?"

Murphy's Law crashed down upon her undefended ego like a piano dropping from four stories up, and she was in the right place at the wrong time. His voice. It was his voice.

"Yes?"

The words spoke themselves like a reflex. For all that truly mattered, a universe could have existed between the hot pathos of her heart and the sterility that encompassed every dark and dead syllable that fell from her lips. She almost cringed in disgust of her own voice's tone. She sounded flat and empty, she sounded like – _We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! _– hollowness incarnate, and by virtue of the very absence of any interest or dynamic in her voice, she sounded annoyed. Annoyed! As if Robin had interrupted her, as if she wanted nothing more than to be left alone when that couldn't have been any further from the truth at that instant. Thankfully, she managed to maintain control. It all came down to control, and Raven had that in abundance; she had it ingrained into her very being.

"Am I intruding on . . . anything?"

Like voodoo. She swore at times that he was just as telepathic– _Or maybe it's just the common link we share? _she thought, _A residue from my intrusion upon his mind? _– as she was herself, although he would probably give her some sort of cynic's rationalization if she had ever suggested the idea to him. '_I can't read minds,_' he'd say, '_I just know how to read _people.' Yes, that was exactly what he would say. She stood up and let the rain that had pooled in the hollows of her clothing and her body to roll off of her, savoring it like any true addict.

"Not at all. What do you need Robin?"

She took him in with one seemingly unimpressed – _We are the hollow men –_ glare, no slow sweep of her pupils to surrender to the world any possible insinuation of what those silent oculars actually considered as they moved over Robin's form. He was short for his age, certainly, no more that five feet and seven or eight inches from his soles to his fine ebony hair . . . not taller than she herself by much. That glossy, sable hair was matted – it was _that_ soaked? How long had he been on the roof with her? – to his head by the rain, now, weighed down by humidity and the depressing ambience. Her fingers felt so anxious to wander through those dark locks, to playfully tease the moisture out of them. When he moved, his slender limbs undulated with a willowy, sinuous grace that betrayed his training in acrobatics and the martial arts. She would have compared his complexion to a snow-laden field lightly flushed with the sickly reflection of weak, wintry sunlight, but after reconsidering this thought all the months ago when it had first occurred to her, she recognized it for the horrible cliché that it was.

He stepped forward – nausea and self-defeating hope washed over her all at once, knotting up the air passages of her chest cavity – and placed a hand on her shoulder. Breathe, breathe. She hadn't spoken the entire time she had been up here – at least, not yet – so it's not like he could have any idea of what she had been doing. Concentration failed her; it took a bit of telekinesis to force her facial capillaries to contract. She would _not_ blush in front of him, damn it!

"Cyborg picked up some sort of energy signature on the far side of town. We couldn't identify it from any previous data regarding our allies and our enemies, but it seems, strangely enough, to bear a strong resemblance to the electromagnetic pattern that your own telekinesis produces."

Mild astonishment hit home. Her distinctly unemotional – _We are the hollow men_ – eyes widened slightly.

"You want me to investigate with you?"

A strange, warming light turned the corners of his lips. It was a radiant thing, such a natural smile.

"Bingo."

•••••

It was rather…well, shiny. Yes, shiny…that was precisely the word he had briefly been fishing for in between daydreams. It continued to gleam – _A penny for the Old Guy_ – as it tumbled from such a great height, over the edge of the edifice, despite the meager amount of sunlight that was penetrating the oppressive cloud cover. The roof upon which he crouched was easily one hundred metres from the slick cement surface of the sidewalk. All other factors aside, acceleration due to gravity gave the penny roughly (_one Mississippi_) four seconds before it would bury itself in concrete. He didn't feel like waiting quite that long, so he…_touched_ it.

The glimmer of the coin died beyond instantaneously – faster, perhaps, than it was falling. It darkled, (_two Mississippi_) suddenly a shade – _Shade without color_ – that existed further than the darkest inks and fiercest storms. It was almost as if it had become a miniature black hole, rushing to greet the pavement. Still not fast enough, he judged. He…_pushed_ it.

Penny collided with sidewalk (_three Mississippi_) and ceased to be seen either as an absence of light or a mirror of it. He whistled a little tune he has heard once as it fell out of sight, but hardly out of mind. Or rather, out of _touch_.

The words came haphazardly, like afterthoughts, like idle whims, lyrics breezing in through his mind and out through his lips.

"I told you when I met you I was crazy."

He was standing, now. No more peering over the precipice to entertain himself with bits of raining currency. Something else had drawn his eye away. A peculiar sight, indeed. Well, any other person might find it quite peculiar (other than, perhaps, the people residing in this city, who likely witnessed such things on a regular basis, like going to work or to school). Not he, though. Rather, he had been waiting for this. Yes, he had been waiting this moment for well on eighteen years, now.

"Cry for us all, beauty."

It was gradual in its assembly (of course it would be, it was nigh on two decades in the works), but a grin took hold of his face. It started in his eye, his abyssal indigo eye (the white one didn't work very well – well, it _did_, but its purpose wasn't quite that of the kind of straightforward seeing that most people believe to be an eye's work), and crept down to the leisurely furling corners of his mouth along the creases and dimples in his otherwise sleek countenance. A light had rooted itself firmly in that expression, a kind of unreal, _imbalanced_ glee. It was almost…sadistic.

"Cry for Eddy in the corner, thinking he's nobody, and Jack behind his joker, and stone-cold Grace behind her fan…"

He could feel it itching in the tips of his long fingers, tickling in the arches of his feet. A kind of current had overtaken him, and he understood what was about to happen. It was a knowledge that superseded all logic and sense; it was a knowledge – _Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow_ – that _defied sanity_.

He plucked a cigarette from the depths of his right pocket and a Zippo from his left. Lighting up, a long, smooth drag readily dulling that unquiet sensation that was riddling his nerve-endings.

"…and me in my frightened silence thinking I don't understand."

She was finally here.

•••••

In recent years following the realization that even if light-speed travel were possible it would still take several years to even reach the nearest star, scientists had begun to rethink common sense; that is to say, could there be a shorter distance between two points other than a straight line? Considering space as similar to a piece of fabric, the shortest path between two points on the fabric was not in fact a straight line. The shortest path between two points was to bring the two points together by pinching the fabric and then to widen one of the spaces between the warp and weft of the fabric until an instrument (such as a sewing needle) could pass through one point and into the other. Spatial singularity.

That was the general idea behind it, Robin had recalled reading in some physics or mechanical engineering journal a while back. He didn't know if that's what Raven did when she used her power to teleport, but he suspected it was something close enough.

"Should I…you know, hold your hand or something?"

Raven turned to him, now hooded, and delivered him her typical deadpan glare – although he thought he could detect some trepidation (_What's she so anxious about?_ Robin wondered) – and then returned to meditating upon their destination.

"Where is our destination, Robin?"

He blinked, slightly taken aback at her blunt treatment and raw tone. Raven usually reserved her rough side for Beast Boy. Had he said something to put her in a bad mood? Had he offended her?

"Robin? The destination…sometime today?"

Her singsong irritation sliced through his thoughts.

"Right – sorry. Umm, twelve and a half kilometres east by northeast, in the vicinity of Metropolitan Government Office Building Four. We don't know what we're dealing with yet so–"

"Leave a decent distance between ourselves and our target."

Robin blinked again, and then nodded hesitantly. She was being _sharp_ with him! He hardly had the time to articulate the thought as his field of vision became engulfed in the colorless – _Shade without color_ – shadow of Raven's power. Lurching from within his viscera, Robin sensed an inexorable and severely nauseating heaving, as if someone had ran him through with a meat hook that was chained to a bullet train. His eyes swam in their sockets as glimpses of a demented, nightmarish landscape flashed before them. That was the problem of the universe-as-a-cloth metaphor. When you pinched the two points together and passed the needle through one to the other, the needle had to traverse the space created by the folded fabric. The space between their fold in the cosmic cloth was the extradimensional plane from which Raven's demonic father, Trigon, had originated.

It was all over in mere seconds, but being that time and space as they existed were inseparable, in warping one, the other was warped as well. Moments seemed to stretch out into hours, into months, into decades, into life times, into eternities…There was a shrieking from within Robin's skull, buzzing through his brain like white noise. It was actually done as soon as it had begun, but Robin's mind couldn't wrap around that fact until after he had oriented himself to normal space and time upon arriving three blocks from Metropolitan Government Office Building Four.

"Remind me to just buy us two bus tickets next time."

Robin doubled over on himself; he planted his hands firmly on his knees and paused to catch his breath. Well, that and tried his damnedest not to vomit in front of Raven.

•••••

Raven almost skittishly readjusted her cerulean cloak after teleporting herself and Robin. Maybe it was the fact that she had never tried to pull someone entirely through the extradimensional plane along with her…or maybe it was the fact that Robin's offering to take her hand had so violently thrown her concentration for a loop. Whatever the reason, she had never experienced that kind of vicious reaction in the course of teleportation.

Her face was flush, now, either from their wild trip through the other dimension, from Robin proposing physical contact, or the both. She could feel the heat of her dilated blood vessels, so she knew she had to have been blushing like an idiot, but Robin was mercifully far more interested in preventing himself from regurgitating his lunch than in noticing what a lovely shade of red Raven had turned. Her hood also went far in the capacity of hiding those shamefully crimson cheeks.

Robin muttered something, but the only intelligible words she could pick out were "just" and "bus". She was about to tell him to get his ass in gear when –

Why hadn't she felt it! All around them…this entire area of the city, for what must have at least been a radius of a kilometre was charged with psychic energy – energy almost exactly identical to her own! What blood had rushed to her face drained twice as swiftly as she created a mental parameter. She circled anxiously, scanning the street, the buildings, rooftops, sidewalks…nothing. Who was generating this prodigious power!

"Raven, what's the matter!"

Robin was standing at alert, now, surveying their surroundings just as warily as she was. Something was very wrong here. There were no people on the sidewalks, in the stores, driving down the streets – it was as if the city had been emptied of all human life other than herself and Robin. And, looking up and about, she realized with amazement that the rain had simply ceased. Raven reached out empathically in an endeavor to figure out just what the hell was going on –

•••••

They were there, now. Two of them. He had only wanted her there, but the other one wouldn't pose too much of a problem. He could feel no conscious power emanating from the other one, so her bringing along a companion really didn't matter.

What did matter was that _she_ was there. As soon as he had _felt_ her there, he expanded his control over every inch of the city within at least a kilometre. There would be no interruptions, and no more of that _fucking_ _rain_. He didn't enjoy it much, to say the least. He moved fluidly through the empathic field that he had created – one moment he was on the roof of Metropolitan Government Office Building Four, the next he was on the silent street far below. A blink later, and he was directly behind her. She was rather on the short side, despite that she was levitating. She couldn't have been more than maybe five feet and four inches tall. So thin, too! It was no good trying to spy the color of her eyes or hair from this vantage though, so he opened his mouth –

•••••

"Hey."

Raven spun in midair, nearly losing her precarious balance, startled by the sound of a mellifluous yet foreign voice rising from behind her. There, in what space only seconds ago she was certain was unoccupied, stood a strange figure. He towered over her, even though she was deftly floating three inches from the ground (which made her about five and a half feet tall), and to say that she didn't find him menacing would have been a barefaced lie. His limbs were long and lanky – bordering on gaunt – and his head was crowned with a garland of shaggy, coal-colored hair that didn't quite reach his shoulders, but was certainly long enough to obscure his eyes. His skin was wan and ashen much like her own, and he was dressed from his neck down to his combat boots in black. He donned a black band shirt – _Smashing Pumpkins, may the rest in eternal peace_, Raven caught herself thinking before reminding herself that this guy was potentially dangerous – a pair of clinging bondage pants made of patent black leather. Black straps studded covered in metal studs adorned his neck and arms. He took a drawn out drag on a cigarette and then exhaled the smoke slowly, relishing the taste and texture.

"W-who the…_fuck_ are you?"

"You like the Pumpkins, too? We have more in common than I would have thought."

The man was smiling at Raven. He was so relaxed. Could he not see that Raven and Robin were on the edge of blowing him half way across Jump City and back! Did he just read her –

"Indeed," he spoke. "I know you're both…_scared_. I know a lot of things. And yes, I did just empathize with you."

When "scared" crossed his teeth, his mouth turned upward into a sadistic smirk briefly. He was _toying_ with them! The shock and fear she had initially felt were melting with an abandon, giving way to blind rage.

"Now, now, Raven. Azar taught you better than that, didn't she? Anger will get you nowhere…dear _sist_–"

•••••

SILENCE (_he's here_) SILENCE (_he's in my mind_)

_In death's dream kingdom –_

SILENCE (_don't come here!_) SILENCE (_don't _rape_ my mind!_) SILENCE (_DON'T RAPE MY – _)

– _Not that final meeting  
In the twilight kingdom _–

SILENCE

•••••

The straw that broke the camel's back. The Breaker that snapped the Beam of the Turtle and the Bear. It was all the same thing; the same result was achieved. Raven broke. Raven snapped. Ripples in reality itself burst outward from her body. Robin couldn't quite remember when that telepathic screech had torn through his mind. There was only a blank between the time he was about to carve the antagonistic bastard-in-black up with his birdarang and the moment when he realized that he was cradling his head on the concrete surface of the sidewalk. Covering his ears had done him no good, of course – the psyche-rending shriek existed only within his brain, but the survival instinct had taken over at that point. His body understood what had happened only in terms of pitch and tone, but Robin knew that Raven's cry had hardly occurred in the material realm.

As he came to, he realized he was wet. It was raining again. Moreover, he was being _splashed_ – by a car speeding through a nearby puddle. Robin shook his head as his pupils dilated and contracted, adjusting to the grey light. There were people here. Had Raven teleported him? Or perhaps that strange guy? He quickly scanned the skyline and street as he shook the water off of himself and attempted to stand only to find his right leg painfully unresponsive. No. This was almost exactly where he had been before his mind had gone vacant. Where was Raven? Where was the – _The bastard_, Robin thought, clenching his teeth – guy?

"Raven!"

The only answer was the empty lull – _As wind in dry grass Or rats' feet over broken glass_ – of a late afternoon in the city.

«i do believe that that is the end of le première chapitre. : nodnod : reviews, comments, compliments, critiques, vicious verbal attacks; all are welcome – nay, demanded! even an angry response is better than no response at all. what did you like about le première chapitre? what did you hate about it? where do you think it should go from here? (i already have several ideas, but, to be quite sure, good suggestions will lead to a better story) all valid opinions will be taken account of and possibly incorporated in future installments of this, my evil fan fiction. if you really wish to harass me, my AIM name happens to be oOSumeragiOo – yes, my life is so boring here at college thati don't mind strangers IMing me. adieu. mark.»

«**an added note:** i've just finished revising ce chapitre (hopefully for the LAST time) . . . proofread it, shored up any plot holes and unintentional ambiguities, as well as inconsistencies with the following chapitres (id est: Robin being more severely injured than i initially imagined). i'm almost finished with le chapitre troisième's final revisions, and i've already begun freewriting le chapitre quatrième. désolé for the horrendous lapse of activity, but i'm (as i mentioned above) a college student, and i have a bit of a life beyond writing fan fictions. RAVEN AND ROBIN FOREVAAAAAAAAH! hee. . mark.»


	2. chapitre deux: all the wasted time

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the DC characters who appear in the animated series Teen Titans (as much as I would LOOOOOOOOVE to own Raven). I do not own any of the quoted material that might appear in here from literature, movies, and songs and such. I do not own the demonic tradition of Goetia, BUT THIS PORTRAYAL OF RAIM IS STRICTLY MINE, BITCHES! I will however make THIS distinction: although many of my elaborations upon Raven's past are based somewhat upon DC comic mythos (I don't tend to enjoy American comics, but when I write anything, I do my research ahead of time), some of the details given may not jibe with specific details presented in the comics or future episodes of Teen Titans. I really couldn't care less. This is my fiction, not DC's! Otherwise, the world is mine. You may kneel, now.

(_Special Thanks to:_ DC, Ani D., Joni M., Stephen K., and T. S. Eliot for providing me with material. Please don't prosecute me! Remember, kiddies; good writers borrow, great writers steal!)

**Rating:** Unreadable and Slated to Be Taken Care of by The Department of Miniluv, as decreed by the Almighty Federal Communications Commission, subsidiary and loyal bitchslave of The Evil Empire, also known as The Bush Administration (TWO MORE MONTHS! TWO MORE MONTHS!)

**The Extent To Which Censorship Will Enter My Writing:** is _THIS!_ There will be many "mature themes" regarding morality, religion, sex and sexuality involved in this piece. There will be swearing, cursing, innuendo, and filthy gutter language _ad libitum_ which your cliché grandmother would not likely enjoy hearing from your mouth (trust me, my voice mail message on my cell was "Hey there, bitches, this is Mark…I'm out working the curb at the moment, but leave me a message and I'll be sure to get back to you. Muah!" until my grandma called me up in the middle of a class and got the answering service X . X). There MAY be some scenes of graphic nudity, sex, and/or violence (I really am not decided on how far I want to go with this, yet, although I'm pretty certain that I won't be going into the territory of gore; this isn't a _Subaru x Seishirou_ or _Kamui x Fuuma_ fiction, after all! Therefore, there won't be any decapitation, evisceration, or anything of the like…désolé, 13 to 18 year old male demographic!). If you have problems with such topics being addressed in writing, either stop reading here and now, stop reading when you reach them in the fiction, or skip over them. Otherwise, don't complain! You were warned. Oh, yes, and I'm a rabid X fan, so I'm used to other rabid fans who favor other character pairings than myself flipping out over my choice in character pairings. This is tentatively a _Raven x Robin_ fiction. If that causes you to fly into hysterics, also stop reading here. Raechan is going to be commiserating about how "unfair" it is that Star is so fortunate and blessed with Robin's affection, et cetera, and going all internal-angst-tortured-love-emokid mode. Well, it's not going to be that simple, but you know. That's the Sparknotes version of it.

Otherwise, ENJOY,

Mark

(your supreme sovereign master. mwaugh haugh haugh haugh!)

_Raven is having trouble not only keeping her buried emotions in reign, but also problems with her…family. As Robin and Starfire grow closer, Raven begins to resent her heritage increasingly with each passing day; if not for her powers as a demon, expressing the love she feels for Robin, the guilt-ridden jealousy she holds for Star, as well as her hatred for her father, Trigon, would be an easy enough task. Fate, seeming to spite Raven, throws her an even greater dilemma when a half-brother Raven never knew she had decides to pay her a visit._

**(_SU•PER•HE•RO)_**

**chapitre deux: _all the wasted time_**

"_Shut up."_

"_Well, she _is_ a freak!"_

"_Shut up, Beast Boy. You're not helping matters here. Just leave her alone for now."_

_She had heard it all from the other side of her door; it could just have well been the other side of the looking glass or the other side of existence. She was used to the names by now, and she was used to being treated like a charity case. Like an old song that stuck to your synapses, that you really can't stand, that constantly plays in the dark recesses of consciousness and is always ready and willing to surface again in the wrong place at precisely the wrong time, it wasn't new to her. It would make sense for the pain to dull with time, to build up a resistance to it, but as much as she tried to convince herself that it was just life-as-usual, she knew that of all people, she was the only one who could never truly accept her own lies._

_As if orchestrated, her incisors sunk into her lower lip and her body sunk to the floor. Her hands closed almost-automatically, thoughtlessly taking on the mantle of fists. Why didn't the suffering ever leave her?_

"_Raven?"_

_She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response. She almost despised him more than Beast Boy. How dare he! How dare he play ever-the-_fucking_-superhero with her and swoop down to her rescue! As if she couldn't defend herself…as if she were in need of his aid! Why should she bolster his ego by playing into the role of the grateful damsel-now-saved-from-distress?_

"_I understand if you'd rather not speak at the moment…so I guess I'll be on my way. If you need to…to talk to someone, though, you know where to find me."_

_Someone to _talk_ to! Did the Boy Wonder have a PhD now, too? Next thing she knew, she would walk into the operations center and Robin would be sitting there in an armchair next to a long couch upholstered in brown leather. She snorted bitterly in sardonic amusement. But, as she moved toward her bookcase, the urge to unleash her emotions became almost insuppressible. She wanted to do more than idly chat with someone who would listen, though – she wanted to scream. She wanted to toss a chair or two around, like she was white trash cashing in on making an appearance on the Jerry Springer Show. She had grown so weary of just forcing all of these sensations to the bottom of herself and letting them collect dust._

_She could tolerate this way of living no longer; her pride might suffer, but she knew that she would ultimately feel more at quiet for it. She opened her own door in search of Robin's. She raised a hand to knock, but hesitated._

What the _hell _am I doing!

_The blood rushed to her face. Her mind was in knots and tangles, and one way or another, she meant to straighten it out. With one last steeling of her resolution, she brought her knuckles against the veneer of his door._

"_Come in."_

_And she did just that._

•••••

_An hour or so later, she strode back out of Robin's room. She had told him as much as she felt comfortable divulging. She told him about Azar, about Arella, about life in Azarath, even about Trigon…he already had a muddy sort of grasp of her past, but she had confessed –_ That's exactly what it was_, she mused,_ a confession _– things to him of which she had told no one else before. Once she had started talking, it all just seemed to flow down from her lips like a dammed up reservoir that had been anxiously awaiting the opportunity to cascade freely._

_She hadn't told him everything, naturally. She wasn't prepared to bare her most vulnerable moments to another, let alone discuss her feelings – and probably never truly would be – and she had carefully avoided mentioning the prophecy concerning her day of birth, but she could say in all truth that Robin was now the one being in the universe who knew her the best other than herself. And how attentively he had listened! He asked questions appropriately, never prying, and he demonstrated how alertly he was absorbing her story through those inquiries._

_The last time she had felt this good…well, actually, she couldn't recall such a time. She even dared to whistle a few show tunes – a passion for musical theatre was what she thought of as one of her embarrassing secrets (_"Dark" people aren't supposed to sing 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow'_, she reasoned) – on her return route to the seclusion of her room. To the melody of "The Time Warp" – it was just a jump to the left, and she was back where she had started. Before long, she had happily buried herself in a novel._

•••••

"–sic do you listen to?"

Felt like a fucking train had collided with her forehead, like her eyelids had been cast in lead. If she had been bludgeoned with sledgehammers, left swollen, covered in motion-impairing bruises, she took firmly to a conviction that it wouldn't have felt very much different from this. As she stirred from the comforting dream, that memory that had been buried by distant months, every joint, extremity, and tendon pained her; even her diaphragm and throat murmured in aching protest as she weakly strove toward a moan.

"Stop being such a drama queen. I know you're conscious, you needn't inform me with unintelligible noises."

That voice released pain's hold over her mind and body. It was the guy – the one who had attacked her! Her eyes contracted, no small measure of that action brought on by terror, but there was animosity, too. Raven expected light – at the very least, a dim light of some darkened room – to flood her retinas, but there was no such response. What the hell was going on!

"What the _fuck_ are you doing!"

She was almost shocked that she had bellowed with such passion. Raven felt the choler burning in her bones and veins. She was brimming with righteous wrath – _Just the kind of thing that would have helped Starfire in this instance, but not for me_,Raven thought, half in sullen regret, half in jealous resent – and it took her as no surprise when she heard a tumultuous crash of some heavy machinery of some sort. In her anger, her control had slipped and her surrounding environment had suffered for it.

"Oh, you're talking about the blindness? It's a simple trick, really. I'm quite amazed that you yourself haven't devised any similar…_tricks_."

The man's voice was absolutely infuriating. He could have been chattering on about a game of croquet for all of the – or rather, the absence of – concern that she could discern in his voice. Raven reigned in her rage for the moment, suppressing it all too well, – after all, how many times had she done such things before? It was a trifle, really – waiting patiently for her captor to reveal some weakness. Everyone had flaws, and if you were observant, they usually revealed them quite readily. You just had to let them prattle on a while and know what to look for.

"You see, I just _reached_ out and stopped your optical nerves from moving. Did you know that the eyes are constantly moving? Immobilize them and all ability to visually image quits as well."

She could sense it already.

_This asshole is full of himself. He loves to listen to himself talk. There must be some way I can take advantage of that. If I keep him talking, maybe I can telepathically locate him and mount an attack._

"I honestly hadn't thought of that. It's genius in its simplicity. I should try it sometime."

A muffled, bark of a laugh rang out.

"Well, I could teach you a lot of things…"

All Raven needed was to probe his mind a little. It would be difficult without physical contact, but she was certain that with enough focus, she could do it. She had reached out to Robin like this before, so she knew that she was capable of it. She fumbled for his mind remotely and – he was chuckling, again. _Why_?

"I'm afraid you'll find sneaking into my thoughts quite useless, Raven."

She had hit a wall. He was warding his mind against entry! But how!

"I knew you wouldn't be totally helpless without your sight. You and I are so similar. We're both strong mediums. It's easier for us to telekinetically batter someone when we can see them, but sight failing, we also can telepathically…_dowse_; seek out specific locations, objects, people…through our minds."

He was smiling, now. She couldn't detect it through her ineffective telepathy, but his tone was telling her everything she needed to know. This was something he had wanted to happen for a very long time; it was a dream realized to him. What was it that he was deriving such pleasure from? Why had he taken her? What did he _really_ want? Relaxing her survival instincts slightly, Raven resigned herself to her current situation. She would wait for the opportunity for escape to present itself, and that unavailing, she was confident that Robin, Cyborg, Star, and Beast Boy would come knocking for her eventually. In the meantime…she had some inquiries that she wanted clarified, and as she didn't think she would be going anywhere anytime soon…

"Who are you? You obviously know who I am, so I don't think it's very polite of you not to introduce yourself."

"Right you are; I forgot my manners. You can call me Raim."

Raven was somewhat taken aback at how quickly his vocal quality had changed. The cruel delight had vanished, replaced by an amiable conversational tone. It was warm…almost…_friendly_!

Reminding herself of her purpose, she collected herself from brief surprise.

"Raim? I have a few questions, if you'd oblige me and answer them."

No response came following her questions. A moment of stark silence drew itself out, seeming to last for uneasy ages. Raven felt the stirring of fear – _What's he doing?_ – before he assuaged it with his lazy reply.

"Fire away."

She exhaled.

"Your powers and mine…you said that they were alike –"

"Actually, I said that _you and I_ are alike."

Raven nodded off-hand. Semantics, really, but it led into what was truly gnawing at her thoughts.

"Right, right…and right before you brought me here, I thought I heard you call me sister."

"Indeed, I did."

Raven sucked in air through her nose slowly, as she was not completely sure she would want to hear the answer to her next question. Nonetheless, she knew that it must be asked; there was no doubting it, no uncertainty. This question had a…_fated_ quality about it. It would not be denied.

"Who are you to me? All of my life in Azarath and here on Earth, well…my mother and Azar never told me that I had any siblings, and nothing ever caused me to suspect that I might have brothers or sisters."

He snorted. The smugness had returned.

"That's because Azar and Arella were unaware of me. I'm surprised myself that they were so naïve as to believe that my father – excuse me, _our_ father – would so easily give up on his plans for this dimension."

Raven's accelerating heart was horrendously palpable. A putrid sensation took hold of her insides. His tongue unmistakably had betrayed the answer she had been aiming for, but even that was not enough; as much as it daunted her, she wanted direct vindication.

"Answer the question."

She formed a mental image of Raim within her mind…if she could see him at the moment, Raven was almost positive that he would be raising his hands in an empty gesture, half-shrug, half-surrender. Raven was biting down on her lower lip. She must have pierced a blood vessel as a fresh, metallic taste filled her anxiously salivating mouth.

"Alright, alright…you win. You're my half-sister, Raven. You and I… we are both children of Trigon, although we have different human mothers."

Raven choked, felt her throat wring and writhe. She was clenching her jaw, trying to repress any visible response to his answer. Despite all of her efforts, a low whine, air escaping her constricted larynx, absconded from her drawn lips. And for the first time in years, she felt that terrifyingly foreign – and yet entirely too welcome – warmth along the edges of the whites of her eyes. Raim may have been holding her retinas and eyes in suspense, but he certainly hadn't had the prescience of mind to paralyze her tear ducts.

•••••

"Have you found anything yet, Cyborg?"

Cy hadn't known quite what they were dealing with to begin with, and he didn't like the odds involved in trying to locate and combat an unknown enemy. There was no doubt in his mind this was of the utmost urgency when the GPS and comlink lost contact with Raven and Robin, but when Robin had tumbled face-first, soaked to the bone into the operations center in spite Starfire's attempts at aiding him in walking, the situation took on a new dimension of exigency.

"Beast Boy, you should be keeping an eye on Robin with Star. Let me take care of Raven."

With a defeated grunt, Beast Boy resigned himself to the couch.

Cyborg continued to pore over the data. None of it made sense. One moment, Robin and Raven were on the map, the next they weren't. A few minutes later, Robin had reappeared, but there had still been no sign of Raven since her initial vanishing. There – then gone. How did a person simply cease to exist?

"Has there been any sign of Raven, yet?"

Cy started at the sound of Star's voice. He had been so engrossed in the dilemma presented by the GPS data that he'd shut out the world, completely lost in running and rerunning possible scenarios. For the past hour, Star had been intermittently leaving Robin's side in the infirmary to check on Cy's progress in the hunt for Raven and her mysterious captor.

"Sorry, Star. I got nothing. It's almost as if she telepo–"

Hell. _HELL_!

"Is something the matter, Cyborg?"

That was _it_! His eyes had widened with what could only be called ecstatic anxiety. The frequency that matched up with the electromagnetic units Raven's own telekinesis produced – everything fell into place in one glaring revelation. Now, if only he could track the frequency of that energy he'd detected earlier…

•••••

SILENCE (_not for him_) SILENCE (_i won't let him do this –!_)

SILENCE (_NOT FOR HIM!_)

He understood too well. Raven was on the verge of tears. When she had been unconscious between the time that he had assaulted her mind and then collapsed his empathic field and the time that she had awakened, he had rifled through her garbled thoughts and memories of her unconscious psyche at will. She had been saving those tears for ten years, now. She hadn't realized it until quite recently, but she had been holding them all back for the sake of one person. Raven didn't want to cry over the emotional turmoil Raim had thrown her into – she wanted to cry for _Robin_.

He drew in the smoke through his mouth, holding it a while – his means of engineering a form of passive suicide – in his lungs, and then allowed it to meander out of his nostrils in wispy trails. He was trying to decide whether to laugh at Raven, to leave her permanently blind in jealousy and spite, or to comfort her. He hadn't been raised to consider the hearts of others very seriously, but pity often coupled itself with superiority complexes.

Raim inhaled in a calculated manner, and then let fly a sigh of exasperation.

"Raven, I know about…_him_."

No response came, excluding the whine of a compressing throat. Light laughter ran across his tongue. It wasn't that he really found her misfortune and inability to express herself entertaining – no, it was more that he found the idea of emotional repression silly. That, and laughter was an excellent way of release a bit of the nervous energy that his anger was producing.

_She would choose a half-wit…human over her own blood! As if I weren't worth her tears!_

He had to mount a strong effort to suppress the bile which that thought had incurred – something he wasn't wholly used to, yet – but with another measured breath, he managed it. Her sightless eyes, a shade deeper than blue, were staring through him, completely unfocused. He returned that aimless gaze with a contemptuous glare of his own. He would appeal to her pathos…

…for now.

"Listen to me, Raven; did you ever consider…"

•••••

"…expressing yourself, your feelings?"

She almost hadn't heard the words that Raim had just spoken. Of course she had considered expressing herself! She had dreamed of it every waking moment of her life! Being open with her thoughts and feelings was the first idea that entered her head upon rising from her bed and the last wish that her conscious mind clung to as she sank back into it at night. Sometimes she meditated upon her own powers and how some people would kill to have the kind of strength that she commanded with such ease. Would they trade their tears in order to read the minds of others, though? Would they foreswear their joy to obtain the simply _astounding –_ she chuckled bitterly – ability to bend a spoon with a thought? Would they vow to never curse in anger for the rest of their natural lives? Even those who would, she thought, would only do so out of a lack of understanding of how truly precious a thing freedom was. Her powers weren't something to envy; they were something to pity. They were a prison. Raven uttered a despairing, mirthless laugh again. It was a miserable thing, but all that mattered to her was that it wasn't a tear.

"Look, Raim, I don't really care who or what you are, but don't even begin to think that I need either your misguided attempts at sympathy or your 'help', as you would probably call it."

He was dismayed. She was almost positive of it. Something she had said had set him off his stride. He had expected her to be too emotionally volatile to muster any sort of stable counter-argument. She wasn't totally aware of how she knew this, but she believed in it, believed in its truth. He had underestimated her training in repression; every action was clarifying his personality to her. He was more than confident in his capacities – he was arrogant to a fault.

"Well, I can see that we've reached an impasse so I take my leave, now. Just don't reject, don't disregard what I've suggested."

"You're _letting_ me go?"

"Raven, we'll meet again –"

The last syllable that rose from his tongue fell upon ears deafened. Light flooded her vision, her dull, vapid pupils contracted aggressively in response. As her palms flew to the sides of her head in the instinctive disarray that her mind had degenerated into and her vocal chords rendered a voiceless screech, an avalanche incalculably more brilliant and pristine than any sight in this dimension or any other she had previously experienced overwhelmed her optical nerves. Retrospectively, she imagined that she could almost feel the bands of fat on her axioms being fried by the intensity of the impulses flooding the paths from her eyes to her occipital and parietal lobes. Searing, primeval light gave way in an excruciatingly slow fashion first to form. Like an old silent picture with too few frames flashing by per second to give the illusion of motion, she could finally actualize the shadow-and-light framework of an abandoned factory. Spasmodic movement began to merge into fluid continuity just as a receding shadow – _His power_, she knew – engulfed a leering grin. One cocked corner of his mouth just barely gave away predatory incisors. It was a smile that would be eternally branded in her memory, a smile that kept its secrets and tortured myriad unfortunates in their dreams and cryptic thoughts…a true Mona Lisa smile.

Depth began to moderate the outrageous contrast of black and white that was so gaudily offending her threshold for pain, illuminating the delicate umbrages of the abandoned warehouse in which moments ago Raim had her blindly captive. She stood, realizing that she must have sent herself to the floor when that tremendous racket had overcome her. She shook her cloak brusquely, sending motes of dust glittering into beams of dying sunlight that were gradually looking more and more like their blood red dusk-color. She blanched in disgust.

"Ugh. Warehouse…how cliché and nondescript."

As she traced a finger along the edge of her hood, she understood that he must have pulled her hood back from her face when he had transported her here – while she was unconscious. She shuddered, not even wanting to create any images of what Raim could have done to her while she was inert. Turning, she was about to head for an exit –

– only to be plowed down by an annoyingly euphoric, orange-skinned alien girl imbued with supernal strength.

"RAVEN! YOU ARE ALIVE AND UNHARMED!"

She winced reflexively, not really sure whether it was due to being thrown back to the ground, the eardrum-warping squeal of elation, or the mere presence of Starfire. Her sapphire eyes rolled without need of any conscious will.

"You _are_ unharmed, are you not?"

"Once I get the ribs you just crushed patched up, I'm sure I'll be _perfectly spiffy_."

Taking the hint, Star backed off, but that insufferably relieved and elated smile refused to be dimmed even by Raven's funereal cynicism. She quashed the desire to blatantly scowl at Starfire.

"Raven! You alright?"

She glanced over her left should. Cyborg and Beast Boy were approaching at a somewhat…_more relaxed_ tempo than Star had. Of course, Robin was bringing up the vanguard limping slightly, his right arm in a sling and patches of his cloak, boots, and pants in tatters. Her gaze was immediately drawn in both fascination – _You pervert_, her internal monologue chastised her – and concern.

"I'm fine, Cy. Let's just go home."

Star blinked, her emerald eyes widening in curious surprise.

"Do you not wish to explain to us that which caused you to appear in this place, Raven?"

Raven refused to indulge Star with a direct reply as she moved past her friends and toward the exit.

"Let's get out of here, fir–"

Raven's thought prematurely aborted at the nauseating crash of living weight hitting a concrete surface. If the clatter hadn't spoken to her clearly enough as to what had just occurred, Starfire's shriek made things crystalline.

"Robin! ROBIN!"

«arigatou gozaimasu for the wonderful reviews! i'm so glad that people enjoy my writing (i get the whole "unique use of words" thing a lot, hmm…) all of your compliments and criticisms are highly valued; this is the final draft (as it exists) of le deuxième chapitre. keep the reviews coming! i'm already working on le troisième chapitre, so be looking for it in a couple of days! also, for previous readers, be sure to go back and read through the whole fiction every time i update. oftentimes, i continue to edit previous chapitres. mark.»

«**an added note:** more revisions. blah. mark.»


	3. chapitre trois: selfless, cold, and comp...

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the DC characters who appear in the animated series Teen Titans (as much as I would LOOOOOOOOVE to own Raven). I do not own any of the quoted material that might appear in here from literature, movies, and songs and such. I do not own the demonic tradition of Goetia and the Lesser Key of Solomon, BUT THIS PORTRAYAL OF RAIM IS STRICTLY MINE, BITCHES! I will however make THIS distinction: although many of my elaborations upon Raven's past are based somewhat upon DC comic mythos (I don't tend to enjoy American comics, but when I write anything, I do my research ahead of time), some of the details given may not jibe with specific details presented in the comics or future episodes of Teen Titans. I really couldn't care less. This is my fiction, not DC's! Otherwise, the world is mine. You may kneel, now.

(_Special Thanks to:_ DC, Ani D., Joni M., Stephen K., and T. S. Eliot for providing me with material. Please don't prosecute me! Remember, kiddies; good writers borrow, great writers steal!)

**Rating:** Unreadable and Slated to Be Taken Care of by The Department of Miniluv, as decreed by the Almighty Federal Communications Commission, subsidiary and loyal bitchslave of The Evil Empire, also known as The Bush Administration (TWO MORE MONTHS! TWO MORE MONTHS!)

**The Extent To Which Censorship Will Enter My Writing:** is _THIS!_ There will be many "mature themes" regarding morality, religion, sex and sexuality involved in this piece. There will be swearing, cursing, innuendo, and filthy gutter language _ad libitum_ which your cliché grandmother would not likely enjoy hearing from your mouth (trust me, my voice mail message on my cell was "Hey there, bitches, this is Mark…I'm out working the curb at the moment, but leave me a message and I'll be sure to get back to you. Muah!" until my grandma called me up in the middle of a class and got the answering service X . X). There MAY be some scenes of graphic nudity, sex, and/or violence (I really am not decided on how far I want to go with this, yet, although I'm pretty certain that I won't be going into the territory of gore; this isn't a _Subaru x Seishirou_ or _Kamui x Fuuma_ fiction, after all! Therefore, there won't be any decapitation, evisceration, or anything of the like…désolé, 13 to 18 year old male demographic!). If you have problems with such topics being addressed in writing, either stop reading here and now, stop reading when you reach them in the fiction, or skip over them. Otherwise, don't complain! You were warned. Oh, yes, and I'm a rabid X fan, so I'm used to other rabid fans who favor other character pairings than myself flipping out over my choice in character pairings. This is tentatively a _Raven x Robin_ fiction. If that causes you to fly into hysterics, also stop reading here. Raechan is going to be commiserating about how "unfair" it is that Star is so fortunate and blessed with Robin's affection, et cetera, and going all internal-angst-tortured-love-emokid mode. Well, it's not going to be that simple, but you know. That's the Sparknotes version of it.

Otherwise, ENJOY,

Mark

(your supreme sovereign master. mwaugh haugh haugh haugh!)

_Raven is having trouble not only keeping her buried emotions in reign, but also problems with her…family. As Robin and Starfire grow closer, Raven begins to resent her heritage increasingly with each passing day; if not for her powers as a demon, expressing the love she feels for Robin, the guilt-ridden jealousy she holds for Star, as well as her spite for her father, Trigon, would be an easy enough task. Fate, seeming to spit on Raven, throws her an even greater dilemma when a half-brother Raven never knew she had decides to pay her a visit._

**(_SU•PER•HE•RO)_**

**chapitre trois: _selfless, cold, and composed_**

_**selfless, • cold, and • composed**_

_DATTA•DAMYATA•DAYADHVAM_

«give—sympathize—control»

"_HOW CAN YOU JUST LEAVE ME STANDING_

_ALONE IN A WORLD THAT'S SO COLD?_

_MAYBE I'M JUST TOO DEMANDING;_

_MAYBE I'M JUST LIKE MY MOTHER_– "

"How can you stand this shit from the eighties?"

Raven was desperately resisting the urge to use her power to rend Beast Boy's hollow head from his green body.

"Beast Boy, why is it that the doves are crying? I do not understand."

As if the ear-drum-popping vocalizations of the midget sex god weren't enough to force her sanity from her, Star was, of course, totally and aggravatingly oblivious as to whom Prince was and what metaphors were. Although Beast Boy could forgive her glaring misinterpretation of artistic idioms – _As if he even knows what a literary device is,_ she expelled a precariously held breath sans cadence, chuckling sardonically – to know not the glories of the artist formerly known as The Artist Formerly Known As was a mortal sin. Somewhere between baleful mutilation and outright murder lay the lack of awareness to the likes of Prince, Cyndi Lauper, and The Buggles. Just as she has anticipated, a tremendous gasp echoed throughout the operations center.

"YOU—DON'T—KNOW—_PRINCE!_"

Starfire blinked twice, her eyelids eclipsing those viridian globes in brevity. Beast Boy's jaw was busy lolling somewhere along the floor. Raven's left nostril twitched in disgust, drawing up half of her upper lip to reveal her clenched teeth. She considered leaving him there to gather himself, but realized the childish antics would only be prolonged without her intervention; better to just expedite the whole damned process than languish in the midst of it. A touch of telekinesis – _Between the idea And the reality Between the motion And the act Falls the Shadow _– and his hyperextended muzzle was righted. The favor went thankless, much as she expected it would. Beast Boy was still in a state of relative shock at Star's absence of pop cultural knowledge.

"Wait, wait, wait…even if you don't know Prince, you _must_ know Blondie!"

Star's listless stare persisted.

"The Culture Club?"

The alien's pupils had dilated.

"Whitesnake! Wham!"

Star blinked. _One blink for yes, two for no_. The thought came upon Raven utterly unprovoked – and her lips furled again, stunning her with the revelation that she was _enjoying_ herself – but the likeness it created between Beast Boy and Star's vagaries and a pretentious made-for-T.V.-movie or daytime television was just too laughable to ignore. Raven found herself in a tepid limbo between amusement and annoyance; the annoyance resulting from the direct exchange between the orange and the green idiots, but it was such mental commentary that she was adding in contextually herself to that kept their little debacle from being entirely caustic. Rising from her diaphragm and forcing her torso to rapidly spasm, a giggle rose. She stifled it in just in time. Nothing good ever came from encouraging Beast Boy when he was busy hyperventilating.

"Karla Devito! Simple Minds! Frankie Goes To Hollywood! Pat Benatar! MICHAEL JACKSON! MADONNA!"

Just as Beast Boy had become positively frenzied and the idea of having to restrain him psychically from leaping onto Starfire and tearing at her hair and eyes popped into Raven's head – _Or maybe I should just stand aside and listen to some Stravinsky while he does that_, she smirked. Images of Beast Boy tearing Star into bloody ribbons nanced through fields of wildflowers to the Finalé of The Firebird in her head – Cy stepped into the room from the infirmary.

"– CYNDI LAUPER! –"

Raven and Star turned concurrently to Cyborg, all previous concerns being suspended. Beast Boy's assiduous babbling was abruptly silenced with a half-hearted afterthought to telekinetically seal his mouth shut. He waved his arms about impudently, of course, and several guttural intonations escaped his throat despite her power, but all of Beast Boy's endeavors to call attention back to himself were wasted upon the forthwith somber trio. Star shot straight to Cy's side without any visible sign of hesitation. Raven, forgetting herself for a moment, stumbled forward almost one full stride before she caught herself midstep. _Of course _you_ can't display _your_ concern to the extent that _she_ can_, a callous, small voice taunted from within her own mind.That _would be _inappropriate_ considering it's an all-but-unspoken law of the universe that he and she are a couple_.

"Will Robin be alright, Cyborg?"

Cy shut his eyes carefully, deliberately, his chin inclining toward his neck. Raven felt her heart catch itself in her throat.

"What's the damage?"

Her saliva soured at Beast Boy's insensitive handling of Robin's condition. She hadn't even realized – _I'm losing control_, adrenaline responded to the pealing of that foreboding idea as it echoed across her psyche before being again drowned by an even more calamitous fear; _fear for Robin_ – that she had eased her control of Beast Boy's mouth in her distraction. Robin's life and health took precedence even over her own frustration with Beast Boy. Cyborg drew air in through his orifice as though he had been rehearsing this, as though it were some sort of speech – _Just like a doctor who has to break the news of the death of a family member_, she knew.

"Five broken ribs, dislocated right ankle, partial fractures in the left femur, multiple fractures in the right arm, numerous lacerations and a bit of internal bleeding, running a fever…"

She had to actively crush the fetching wish to lunge at Cy and pummel his metallic chest into shrapnel. She just barely managed to ward off the impulse, channeling it instead into detached fury. If someone had dropped an iceberg of frozen bile into her stomach, she knew with a relative surety that it would have felt just as sickeningly cold, just as overwhelmingly bitter; it was like a hybrid of leprosy and frostbite, sickly-sweet decay and needle-sharp frigidity.

"Why…did you let him come to find me knowing he was injured so badly? For all any of you knew you could have been running headlong into a trap, into _physical_ _danger_. If any of those ribs had punctured one of his lungs –"

Every word was like a grain of sand falling, gaining momentum. She should have stopped herself, but she really didn't…_want_ to. What she _wanted_ to do was to see Robin safe and unharmed. They were accumulating rapidly enough, though – where there was sand, sandstorms would follow…

"Look Raven, don't take this up with me. Robin was going crazy pent up in the infirmary while you were who-the-hell-knows-where and nothing short of Star or me throwing him against a wall and pinning him there with steel I-beams – which would have made his injuries _worse_ – was about to stop him. On top of that, we had no clue at the time just how bad he was hurt. Batman, Slade…the guy's trained with the best of them. That he could even _stand_, let alone _walk _on a dislocated joint is a mystery to me."

Her gaze was beyond incendiary, she was certain – she could sense the itching of flame along every fiber of her eyeballs. A nauseating animus – _Between the desire And the spasm Between the potency And the existence Between the essence And the descent Falls the Shadow _– had risen from the depths of her heart and it was thirsting for fresh blood. The ice-cold pit of her viscera began to thaw and boil, a painfully acrid sensation took hold in her entrails and racing up her esophagus, fermenting her spit, giving form to words that were just as rancid and pungent as the taste they were leaving —

"He—could—HAVE—_DIED!_"

As if to answer the crescendo of her imperious voice, a cacophonic concerto arose from their surroundings. From within the cupboards and drawers of the kitchen, the distinctive rattling of silverware, dishes, pans, and appliances could be heard accompanied by several loud crashes of shattering porcelain and tumbling metal. Flocks of Beast Boy's CD collection cut through the air like shuriken before embedding themselves in the walls as the cushions of the couch ruptured ferociously, spewing stuffing across the carpet. The acid of her voice and abyssal innards had spewed out over the entirety of the room, infecting it with the selfsame bestiality. The television lit itself and began to scroll through the channels at a frenetic pace. Cords flung themselves upwards, writhing like expiring serpents that had suffered cranial contusions. The operations room had _become_ her anger.

"HE—COULD—HAVE—_DIED_—AND YOU JUST…_LET_ _HIM_—!"

Raven's face drew itself taut with surprise at her own outburst and sudden loss of control. She hadn't even been cognizant of her own levitation and menacing advance upon Cyborg until she was floating within inches of his bewildered face. Self-consciousness taking hold of her, she soon realized that Star, Cy, and Beast Boy were all staring at her, their expressions riddled with an arresting terror. Several discs in the midst of impelled flight fell harmlessly to the flood with a _hollow_ clatter. She fell to her feet, scrambling for some sort of excuse or explanation as what felt like every drop of blood in her circulatory system rushed to her cheeks.

"I – I'm…_sorry_."

The words had such a _hollow _coarseness to them that they seemed, if anything, even more embarrassing than her telekinetic fit. Starfire was the first to speak, regrettably.

"It is…_alright_, Raven. I…understand your concern for Robin."

If anything, Star saving Raven face by speaking up before Beast Boy could make a vulgar comment about Raven's state of mental health only made Raven begrudge Star her virtues increasingly. If her cheeks had felt warm with shame moments ago, they were now absolutely torrid. She could sense every ounce of bile and acid that her flesh contained boiling with a grim indignation; _I don't need to be saved!_

"We should probably go take a look at him."

At that, Beast Boy and Star fell in line behind Cyborg. Raven shrank away from the others a moment. Her heart rate was still elevated…she could feel the muscle fluttering like a hummingbird, _prestissimo e staccato_, striking away at the walls of her chest. Every beat was an internal, anguishing shriek. The aorta itself seemed to be wailing for liberation from the confines of her flesh.

_I—will—_(DAMYATA)_—will—not—lose_…

Arrestingly, the furor within her subsided. It passed within mere fractions of moments. Composing herself, Raven hurried after her friends in the direction of the infirmary.

•••••

The flesh had now darkened where blood had been spilled within him. The wan, yellow pigment that heralded the body's diligent repair of the mashed vessels was markedly absent. The initial signs of atrophy had joviallytrounced the height and breadth of him in a disturbingly engrossing manner. The bare skin of the chest, ashen as it was, rose and foundered shallowly, dissonantly.Here and there were scatteredpurpling scathes in his surface, marring his lithe symmetry. Almost garrishly, strips of sterile white had wound themselves around the worst of his traumas. Her eyes had flitted away immediately…it was simply too much to take in.

And above everything was one hideous notion:

_This is all because of_ you…_this is all _your _fault_.

Her brow furrowed. She couldn't afford to lose control again. Especially not when it could mean inadvertently ripping out the cords of machines which were sustaining his life in the heat of an empathic fit.

She couldn't allow herself to drown in grief and self-accusation.

_Azarath_…(DATTA)…_Metrion_…(DAMYATA)…_Xinthos_…(DAYADHVAM)…

In the midst of her inner meditation, Cyborg's words cut through to her mind.

"…he's gone into shock. He…he might not…it might be a long…well, a _while_ before he…"

"No."

Even Raven herself was a bit thunderstruck at her interjection. Starfire, Beast Boy, and Cyborg had all turned wide-eyed expressions toward her, expectant of her next words. Star's eyes, she had noticed for the first time, were glazed over with the virgin moisture of tears. That was what she really wanted to do at that very time; cry. Cry with insane abandon. Rife with renewed mourning, her mind was addled.

"I…we…can't let Robin…"

_Die_. She couldn't bring herself to say that awful word again. _Funny_, that tiny voice called from inside of her head, sardonic in its amusement. _You were screaming it like bloody murder a few minutes ago._

She drew in a long breath, gathering her thoughts; she steeled herself against the deep despondency that was threatening to swallow her.

"I'm going to delve into Robin's mind again. I _will_ bring him back. Come morning, he will be…better."

Raven laid her hands upon Robin's bloodied chest.

•••••

What had followed their rescue of Raven at the warehouse on the pier had been foggy, to say the least.

"Robin!"

_who is there?_

"ROBIN!"

_who is screaming? is someone calling my name?_

…"_silence_

timeless white

drifting, drifting, drifting…

Time fell out of thought and memory, drowned in the echoes between words, the noiseless sound of waves upon a far off shore, or perhaps the myriad voices of the grains of sand as it danced aimlessly on an arid breeze. The idea entered his mind to call out, to provoke an answer, any answer at all, but the only thing that escaped his _hollow _throat was a lamentable sigh. The empty space's ebb and flow seemed to swallow any attempt to shout or speak or even exhale with a force…but it was not uncomfortable. To the contrary, he found it soothing, like the gentle swaying of a boat upon a lake. He suddenly felt very drowsy…

It was brief. So brief he almost doubted that it had happened at all. Someone had touched him. It was as if the other had quickly, smoothly dipped a toe into the surface of his retreat before darting out in just as stealthily a nonchalant manner it had intruded. In fact, he would have been quite certain that it had all been a trick of his imagination had the momentary contact not sent warm, caressing ripples across him, tickling his lower spine and stirring a lurch of pain and desire behind his navel. Agony licked along his bones , driving white-hot talons into his ankle, his ribcage, his arm. If he had not realized those ultramarine pupils, he reserved no misgiving that he would have been writhing in the suffering that physical actualization was causing…but he _had _seen them. Eyes like indigo brilliance, sunlight on a broken pillar, ancient and wise.

_Raven_, he smiled.

•••••

She woke with a start the next morning as goldenmotes of dust illumined by the light which was casting itself through the windows of the infirmary. She had spent much of the night in deep meditation by Robin's side, trying to retrieve his consciousness from the very edge of existence. All of her effort had gone into a single thrust, simply to graze the verge of his degraded mind, but she knew that it was a success. Dark, disheveled hair had tumbled helter skelter over the naked skin of his softly rising chest; she was so exhausted simply by endeavoring to reach him before he was beyond her skill that, she reasoned, it probably hadn't taken much for her to collapse in a sleep-deprived heap onto him seconds after her last waking memory of his body, sleek even in his current state of disrepair, arching his back wildly, as if he were trying to press his stomach to the ceiling. His eyes had burst open then, along with his jaw, and she thought she had imagined that he had met her gaze for a moment before his limbs again fell inward upon themselves with the low murmur of some unintelligible word that had sounded, at least to her, suspiciously like the word "urn". Following that, they both had promptly gone into a state of dreamless sleep.

For the most fleeting of moments, Raven considered never moving again. Here, with her right ear resting against his delicately warm body, she could feel the resonance of his heartbeat, sometimes synchronizing with her own, sometimes syncopating. The almost inaudible rustling of his breath was, all at once, more sublimely melodious and heart-rending than any song that had previously swayed across her eardrums. The faint, rosy hue of his areola, mere inches from her lips, seemed (in her own romantic delusion) to very nearly mirror the shade of the eastern horizon that was visible through the window. The skin which only hours ago had been a abtract mess of slashes and lacerations now bore only pallid lines…scar tissue, the by-product of her empathic healing (_My mark upon him_, she thought, and a smile graced her complexion just as the sun's first warm fell upon her). He was flushed, no longer feverishly, but pleasantly so, as if he had just came back from a nice, long run and happened to fall asleep here with her on a bed in the infirmary of the tower where there were three other people living, one of which was the girlfriend of Robin all but in name.

With that biting punctuation to her last thought, Raven knew how awkward it would be for Star to wander into the room to find Raven dozing contentedly upon the exposed flesh of Robin. She certainly didn't want to be the cause of anymore drama in the tower after her…episode last night, of which (among other things) her friends would likely want to discuss with her later in the day. On the off-chance that Robin himself regained consciousness while her face was still reclined atop his body, the situation would have been an even worse predicament. How could she possibly explain with a straight face to Robin that she had been wordlessly basking in his body heat as she presumed that he would never be any wiser? Moreover, how could she fabricate some cheap lie to cover for her instant of emotional weakness, when she had decided to yield to her heart rather than ignore its wants?

And so, she rose to her feet, stooping fluidly to pluck her cloak off of the floor. She wrapped it around her shoulders, fastening the clasp automatically. As her fingers worked, her mind strayed elsewhere…to Raim's words.

"Expressing my feelings…"

The syllables slipped between her lips before she could muster the will to stifle them. She had laughed at the man who claimed to be her half-brother, then. She had laughed raucously and rancorously. A bitter joke, that what it amounted to, to her. A very cruel, very malicious joke. But at that genuine second, gazing down upon Robin's gracefully slumbering form, she longed for nothing more than to unfetter the dams of her heart and to asphyxiate in the deluge of her own surreptitious desires.

She pulled the folds of her sapphire mantle tighter around herself, trying to ward off perilous ideas futilely with gestures.

«m'eh. je reviens, mes putains! so, i think the direction i'm taking ce chapitre will be that of greater definition of Robin and Raven's relation. being her empathic self, she will help him to heal. i'm thinking recollections of the instance in which Robin was hallucinating that Slade had returned in which Raven empathizes psychically with Robin. before seeing through his mind's eye, visions of Robin's past flash through her mind. as i find this occurrence significant (in that it seemed that Raven was penetrating certain memories which were acting as mental defense mechanisms in order to access Robin's mind directly) i think i will expand upon that. don't worry, dearest Raim isn't down for the count, yet; i've also imagined a quaint little café scene in which Raven and Raim banter back and forth concerning the nature of morality. this will help to reveal some of Raim's past (which i've already fleshed out in a reference document) as well as his intentions, motivations, and world views. it might not come until le quartrième chapitre, but I thought I'd just toss some ideas out for the sake of your information and feedback. danke, danke, danke schön. mark. p. s. i personally LOVE those eighties artists that BB threw about, i just think that Raven would tend, as a character, to dislike them. p. p. s. i apologize for some of the terrible grammar from the first time i posted ce chapitre. i writing it at four ante meridiem. x . x»

«**an added note:** this is the FINISHED CHAPITRE TROISIÈME! HUZZAH! FINALLY! expect the fourth to be along soon. things to look forward to? the other Titans confronting Raven about Raim and her haywire powers, Raven confronting Raim over harming Robin and kidnapping her, Raim wittily bantering with Raven "in a coffeeshop, in a city, which is every coffeeshop in every city, on a day which is every day" over her relationship with Robin, her emotional approach to life, and on the nature of good and evil. this conversation's basically going to be Nietzsche from a nihilist's standpoint versus Kant from a moralist's standpoint. it will be up within two weeks, i solemnly swear upon my grandfather's tomb. mark. p. s. YAY "BIRTHMARK"! RAVEN X ROBIN SUGGESTIVE MOMENTS!»


	4. chapitre quatre: siamese dream

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the DC characters who appear in the animated series Teen Titans (as much as I would LOOOOOOOOVE to own Raven). I do not own any of the quoted material that might appear in here from literature, movies, and songs and such. I do not own the demonic tradition of Goetia and the Lesser Key of Solomon, BUT THIS PORTRAYAL OF RAIM IS STRICTLY MINE, BITCHES! I will however make THIS distinction: although many of my elaborations upon Raven's past are based somewhat upon DC comic mythos (I don't tend to enjoy American comics, but when I write anything, I do my research ahead of time), some of the details given may not jibe with specific details presented in the comics or future episodes of Teen Titans. I really couldn't care less. This is my fiction, not DC's! Otherwise, the world is mine. You may kneel, now.

(_Special Thanks to:_ DC, Ani D., Joni M., Stephen K., and T. S. Eliot for providing me with material. Please don't prosecute me! Remember, kiddies; good writers borrow, great writers steal!)

**Rating:** Unreadable and Slated to Be Taken Care of by The Department of Miniluv, as decreed by the Almighty Federal Communications Commission, subsidiary and loyal bitchslave of The Evil Empire, also known as The Bush Administration (TWO MORE MONTHS! TWO MORE MONTHS!)

**The Extent To Which Censorship Will Enter My Writing:** is _THIS!_ There will be many "mature themes" regarding morality, religion, sex and sexuality involved in this piece. There will be swearing, cursing, innuendo, and filthy gutter language _ad libitum_ which your cliché grandmother would not likely enjoy hearing from your mouth (trust me, my voice mail message on my cell was "Hey there, bitches, this is Mark…I'm out working the curb at the moment, but leave me a message and I'll be sure to get back to you. Muah!" until my grandma called me up in the middle of a class and got the answering service X . X). There MAY be some scenes of graphic nudity, sex, and/or violence (I really am not decided on how far I want to go with this, yet, although I'm pretty certain that I won't be going into the territory of gore; this isn't a _Subaru x Seishirou_ or _Kamui x Fuuma_ fiction, after all! Therefore, there won't be any decapitation, evisceration, or anything of the like…désolé, 13 to 18 year old male demographic!). If you have problems with such topics being addressed in writing, either stop reading here and now, stop reading when you reach them in the fiction, or skip over them. Otherwise, don't complain! You were warned. Oh, yes, and I'm a rabid X fan, so I'm used to other rabid fans who favor other character pairings than myself flipping out over my choice in character pairings. This is tentatively a _Raven x Robin_ fiction. If that causes you to fly into hysterics, also stop reading here. Raechan is going to be commiserating about how "unfair" it is that Star is so fortunate and blessed with Robin's affection, et cetera, and going all internal-angst-tortured-love-emokid mode. Well, it's not going to be that simple, but you know. That's the Sparknotes version of it.

Otherwise, ENJOY,

Mark

(your supreme sovereign master. mwaugh haugh haugh haugh!)

_Raven is having trouble not only keeping her buried emotions in reign, but also problems with her…family. As Robin and Starfire grow closer, Raven begins to resent her heritage increasingly with each passing day; if not for her powers as a demon, expressing the love she feels for Robin, the guilt-ridden jealousy she holds for Star, as well as her hatred for her father, Trigon, would be an easy enough task. Fate, seeming to spite Raven, throws her an even greater dilemma when a half-brother Raven never knew she had decides to pay her a visit._

**(_SU•PER•HE•RO)_**

**chapitre quatre: _siamese dream_**

"So, his name is Raim?"

"That's the name he gave me, at least."

"And he is the man who harmed Robin?"

"Yes, Star."

"Lemme get this straight, this guy says he's your brother?"

"_Half_-brother. Didn't I just finish explaining that, Beast Boy?"

"Raven, I don't know as much about this as Robin probably does, but he won't be much use until he's awake. Raim has all of your powers?"

"At least, and probably then some. He was able to expand the range of his power over an area of the city with a radius of about a kilometre and …_suppress _everything and everyone he didn't want to exist within the area. It was just Raim, Robin, and me."

"Teleportation, too?"

"Of course, Cy."

"This doesn't look good."

"Raven, is it possible that this Raim was the origin of your outburst last night?"

"I didn't consider that. I would think I'd realize if someone were inside of my own mind. He did enter my thoughts several times, but I was aware of it when he did."

"Umm, yeah, about that freak-out of yours? You owe me about fifty CDs."

"BB. Shut up."

"Well she does, Cy!"

"That's not what we're dealing with at the moment."

"If you guys don't mind, I'm going to go lie down for a while. Healing Robin took a lot out of me."

"Rest well, Raven."

"Thanks, Star."

•••••

(SILENCE)(_…_)

– _In death's dream kingdom –_

(SILENCE)

–_In this last of meeting places –_

(SILENCE)(_what do you want?_)(SILENCE)_(why are you in my dreams?_)

–_Gathered on this beach –_(_meet me at Exquisite Taste café_)_–of the tumid river –(i know you know where it is_)_–Sightless, unless_ _–(nine o'clock, sharp_)_–The eyes reappear –_(_bring friends if it suits you_)_–As the perpetual star–_

(SILENCE)

(SILENCE)(_and if i refuse?_)

(SILENCE)

(SILENCE)(_are you still there?_)

(SILENCE)

•••••

"Un grand chai vert, garçon."

"And for the lady?"

"A tall chai latte. Don't skimp on the foam."

"Il fait du soleil dans la ville aujourd'hui, n'est-ce pas?"

"You can cut with the small talk. Why the dream? Why did you want to meet me here?"

"Can't a doting brother enjoy the company of his long estranged dear younger sister?"

"You know as well as I do that that's _not _the reason you arranged this."

"Oh?"

"And you're _not _my brother."

"Well, nearly so. How are things with Robby?"

"That's none of your business. And his name's _Robin_."

"You're so cute when you're flustered. I wonder if he thinks you're cute …"

"Am I going to have to bludgeon you with some vehicle of mass transit just to get a straight answer out of you?"

"Maybe."

"…"

"Heh. Alright, I've had my fun. But, in all seriousness, have you tried what we talked about last time?"

"What do you mean?"

"Raven, don't play dumb with me. We're both far too intelligent for that."

"Expressing myself?"

"Exactement."

"Maybe it hasn't occurred to you yet, but I'd _love _to do just that. Do you think I _enjoy _biting back every rabid insult that enters my mind, ever tear that I want to cry? When I want to jump out of windowswith overwhelming ecstasy,instead I resign myself to silent meditation.Do you think it's _fun _for me?"

"Well, if it isn't than _why do you_?"

"You just chastised me for playing dumb."

"Ah, oui."

"Isn't it _obvious_?"

"Mais non, ma petite sœur. Expliquez pour – merci, garçon, pourriez-vous apporter une orangina quand vous avez la chance? – pour moi?"

"…"

"…"

"…Fine. We'll do it your way."

"Do go on!"

"I repress my feelings because if I don't … other people get … _hurt_."

"Oro?"

"I don't find that funny."

"And I'm not following."

"Okay, say for instance if on a given day I'm feeling extremely out of sorts and depressed. Any average person would cry, but I can't. If I were to cry, things tend to collapse in on themselves. Buildings. Cars. Other people's lungs. Are you beginning to get the picture?"

"… go on."

"Or if I'm angry, really enraged by something … the complete opposite effect. Water mains explode. Cushions. Windows. Furnaces. Skulls. You see?"

"Indeed, I do."

"That's why I can't go around wearing my heart on my sleeve. The worst that would come of it were any normal person to do it might be that they'd be an easy emotional target for any run-of-the-mill sadist. But not for me. My worst …"

"… is a lot worse?"

"…"

"I still don't understand, Raven."

"… ?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but … so what?"

"What do you mean, so what!"

"'The delight of the herd is more ancient than the delight in the ego; and as long as the good conscience is identified with the herd, only the bad conscience says: I.'"

"What?"

"_Thus Spoke Zarathustra_. Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche. Do you understand what he was saying, Raven?"

"I haven't read much by him."

"I'm taken aback, good demoiselle, really I am! A book that you've not read? Perish the thought!"

"Cut it out. Just tell me what you were getting at by quoting Nietzsche."

"What I'm getting at is this; so your powers can get out of control when you're running on emotional high. So what. Why's it wrong? It's wrong because you value the will of others, society's collective notion of 'right' and 'wrong', over your own emotional well-being. And why? Why bother?"

"It's not that simple!"

"When you get right down to it, it is. You've been trained from a very early age not only to keep your powers and feelings in check, but also to more readily accept and obey the whims of an establishment rather than actualizing your own desires."

"It is NOT THAT SIMPLE!"

"Explain, then. Explain why it isn't that simple."

"Because … because I wouldn't want those things done to me."

"You're resorting to the Golden Rule?"

"No, it's … it's more than that! When you commit yourself to any action, what you're really meaning is that you feel some sort of justification for what you're doing…"

"And?"

"Well … it's like any law. It has to be logical. When you do something, what is implied is that it's acceptable for anyone to act in such a way. And if it's not, than the action isn't logically consistent with itself. For me to allow my powers to harm other people because of my own selfishness would be justifying any other person harming anyone else out of a need to emotionally express themselves. And that contradicts itself!"

"Heh heh heh."

"What's so funny about that?"

"Do you know what you just did?"

"… ?"

"You reconstructed Immanuel Kant's Categorical Imperative. Logical morality. Deontology. The study of duty … duty to being – merci pour l'orangina, garçon – to being consistent with one's own actions."

"I'm not following."

"Immanuel Kant was a Prussian philosopher of the eighteenth century. He developed several theories regarding what he called imperatives. He called for the death of hypothetical imperatives …that is, the use of 'if-then' statements in application of philosophy and theoretical morals. He was basically trying to justify Christian ethics through logic."

" …so what?"

"Don't you see? You invoked his ultimate, the Categorical Imperative;  that is, for an action to be logically moral, the maxim behind it, it's most basic justification, must never contradict itself when applied as a universal law. According to Kant it was wrong to steal because the maxim a thief functions upon is, 'I should steal'. Applied universally, it becomes, 'Anyone or everyone should steal'. However, if everyone stole from everyone, the very idea of property is rendered null, which is the very principle around which stealing functions. Therefore, stealing is wrong because it is logically inconsistent with itself."

"For one who understands his theories so well, I'd think you would appreciate them more."

"Oh dear sister, just because I can _grasp _his meaning doesn't mean I _agree _with it. Kant's Categorical Imperative created a system of 'duties' … but it never dealt with the issue of conflicting duties. One of its most critical shortcomings."

"It's always a _relief _to know that someone with such power is morally selective."

"I see your biting sarcasm never rests. Regardless, you should consider your own conflict of duties …true, you have a duty to uphold society and all that jazz, but you also have a duty to yourself. One of Kant's seven primary duties was 'personal growth'. The way I see it, Azar's method has knocked you on your ass at a lovely cul-de-sac."

"Enough talk about me—"

"Oh, but we haven't even gotten to _Robby_!"

"—it's time _you _answer a few of _my _questions. And his name's _Robin_."

"Whatever skins your cat. Fire away, ma petite sœur."

"What is this all about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play at being a moron. You quote Nietzsche. I'd wager the lock on my room's door and half of my books that you consider Descartes 'light reading'. I've seen enough episodes of 'The Slayers' and read enough volumes of 'Fushigi Yuugi' and 'Tsubasa RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE' to know better than to trust a genius acting like an idiot. Why did you seek me out and what are you after?"

"You mean to say it's impossible that I, a loving and caring brother, simply didn't wish to finally meet his sister? I have half a mind to be offended!"

"_Caring people _don't mangle others' bodies. I saw what you did to Robin; I had to heal it."

"Oh, _bother _that. I suspected as much that you would find out eventually. You can't really blame me. I wanted to see you and he was in the way. It's not like I knew that you were _hot _for him at the time. Besides, I gather _some _good came out of it."

"Shut—up! Don't go perusing my thoughts like that! And I'm shielding my mind from you! How did you – ?"

"Thoughts like _that _are like roaches, my dear. They just don't go away. They tend to flaunt themselves, to boot."

"At any rate, you're a son of _Trigon_. There's no way in hell your appearance is some sort of 'good omen', so don't even try to skew it that way, Raim."

"Well, if you _must _bring the nasty parentage issue into this, I didn't ask for a demonic, extradimensional father anymore than you did, Raven."

"Enough. Why did you come here?"

"Filial ties aren't good enough for you? Very well, then, it appears my answers are of no use to you. I'll foot the bill if you'll cover the tip?"

"Wait."

"Hmm?"

"…if you ever lay a finger on Robin again, you won't _have _to seek me out."

"Now, now, Raven …don't start with the hypotheticals now. Kant would be disappointed."

"You won't have to breathe, either."

«okay, kiddies, ce chapitre is très (!) experimental, if you can't tell. i was beginning to feel like the story was bogged down by the weight of the descriptions that i was using, so i decided that all non-dialogue would be eliminated in ce chapitre! it's entirely experimental and a bit artsy of me (alas! i am indeed an artist!), so if you hate it or love it, TELL ME. if i find that droves of people adore it, i might fool with it again in the future. if y'all hate it with a passion, i may even revise ce chapitre to include descriptive non-dialogue passages. also: tell me if the weight of the subject matter (id est: Kant, Nietzsche) is weighing things down. i kind of envisioned Raim as one of those assholes who likes philosophy, but only when it suits his purposes (indeed, he likes ANYTHING that suits his purposes!), kind of like myself. it's actually kind of disturbing how much of myself i see that i'm projecting into both Raven and Raim (i myself am involved currently in a situation of unrequited love, but i'm also an out-and-out manipulative bastard).Hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! mark.»


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